


For Want of Wine

by ArchangelUnmei



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drunken Kissing, M/M, New Years, Partying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9587360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelUnmei/pseuds/ArchangelUnmei
Summary: The New Years party at Matthew and Alfred's apartment is traditional, but this year Francis just isn't feeling it. Luckily Matthew has a suggestion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Jessjesscee on tumblr, as part of the 2017 [FrUK Gift Exchange](http://frukgiftexchange.tumblr.com/)! I'm so so sorry this is late. They wanted a 'New Years kiss', so hopefully this will suffice.

Francis stifled a sigh at another loud burst of laughter and yelling from the living room and tugged open the door of the refrigerator. The New Years party at Matthew and Alfred's apartment was tradition by now, but this year Francis wasn't feeling it. He'd had a long week at work, and Alfred had invited a bunch of his friends from grad school that Francis had never met before. Only the bottle of wine at the back of the fridge and the knowledge that Matthew would give him the betrayed puppy eyes if he left were keeping Francis at the party. Who knew engineering students could be so _loud_? 

"Merde," he muttered as he pulled out the wine and emptied the last of it into his glass. He peered into the fridge without much hope; he and Matthew were the only wine drinkers in the house as far as he knew. There were at least four different brands of beer, sangria, juice for mixing, but no more wine. He sighed again and straightened, letting the fridge door close and knocking back the last of the wine far faster than was proper. He shivered warmly as it settled, but it wasn't near enough. His tolerance was fairly high and if he was going to survive this party then he was going to do it smashed. 

He made his way out of the kitchen, finding Alfred and most of his entourage playing beer pong. Matthew was over by the window fiddling with a wine glass of his own, and Francis made his way around the room to him. 

Matthew looked up and smiled when he saw him. "There you are, I was starting to wonder if you'd fallen off the balcony." 

"Non," Francis rolled his eyes. "There are some persons out there progressing from making out to naked, so I thought it best I came inside." 

"Oh!" Matthew went a little pale, craned his neck to be able to see the balcony from the window. "...That's Ned and Soren, tabernac. I'll. I'll throw a blanket over them or something." 

Francis snorted. "We're out of wine, I'm going to run out and get some more." 

Matthew gave him a blank look. "Francis, it's eight o'clock on New Years Eve, no place is open." 

"I know, I stockpiled. I have more back at my place." Francis only lived a few blocks away, not such a long walk even in winter, even buzzed. 

Matthew brightened, looking down at his own nearly empty glass before giving Francis an imploring look. "Is there maybe another good riesling...?" 

"Maybe," Francis chuckled. "You could come with me and check." 

"I would, but-" Another loud cheer from the beer pong table cut Matthew off and illustrated the point he'd been about to make. He sighed, then looked up at Francis again. "Would you maybe take Arthur with you instead? He needs to sober up a little before he actually gets into a fist fight with Gilbert again." 

Francis frowned. He'd only met this 'Arthur' extremely briefly at the beginning of the night, enough to know that he was a classmate of Matthew's and a punk. He'd sneered around his lip ring when Matthew introduced Francis as "my cousin, from Paris" and spoken in a British accent crisp enough that it instinctively awoke a matching scowl from Francis. "Mathieu..." 

Matthew winced, knowing he was in trouble whenever Francis slipped into the French pronunciation of his name, but clasped his hands together and doubled down. " _Please_?" 

The eyes did it, like Matthew damn well knew they would. Francis sighed. "Fine, if he can keep up with me. I won't wait on him." He turned on his heel to go find his coat with Matthew's much too chipper "Thank you Francis~" bouncing off his back. 

He was tying his boots when Matthew reappeared, holding the arm of the denim-clad Arthur. He was grumbling under his breath as Matthew practically threw his coat and tartan-print scarf at him, but it was too low to make out anything distinct, so Francis decided to ignore him for the moment. He didn't seem terribly drunk to Francis as they made their way downstairs and outside. He was perhaps a bit flushed and unsteady on his feet, but certainly no where near what Francis would consider wasted. 

"Where are we going?" Arthur asked as they started down the snow-covered sidewalk, and Francis glanced over at him, surprised Matthew hadn't told him. 

"Ah, back to my place. Matthew and I are out of wine, and I have a few more bottles at home. It isn't far." 

Arthur made a non-committal sound, shoving his hands in his pockets and tucking his chin down into his scarf. Francis watched him out of the corner of his eye, wondering about this strange acquaintance that had been thrust upon him. He looked older than Francis had assumed at first, closer to Francis' own age than Matthew's. His hair was dirty blond and unevenly cut where it poked out from under the toque he'd pulled on against the chilly air, and Francis could see jewelry glittering in his ear in addition to the ring through his bottom lip. His coat was a proper long, thick wool coat, with patches sewn onto the sleeves and back, and a glance down revealed tight jeans that looked deliberately shredded. 

"...It's a nice night for a walk, at least," Francis added after a minute, just so that something would break the silence. The streets were deserted, and it was eerie how quiet everything was. Arthur quirked a little half-smile, and Francis wondered if he was thinking similar thoughts. 

"I guess so," Arthur sighed, even as he pulled his scarf closer around his neck. "At least there isn't any wind." He glanced sideways at Francis, and Francis saw his eyes flick - up, down, taking in the tailored jeans and designer cashmere scarf and neatly trimmed goatee. "Matthew said you're from Paris?" 

"Originally. I lived in Montreal since I was fifteen, however, and moved here when I was twenty-three to take an apprenticeship." 

Arthur's eyes flicked over him again, more calculating, and Francis felt himself flush a little. He definitely needed more wine. "Apprenticeship for...?" 

"Culinary. I got offered a position under a chef I admire very much, I would have been stupid not to take it." Arthur nodded agreement, and since he'd started the questioning Francis couldn't help but ask, "And you? What part of the British Isles are you from?" Arthur looked startled for a moment, like he hadn't been expecting that question, and Francis chuckled. "The accent is a touch noticeable. Wait, let me guess. Somewhere in the north?" 

Arthur arched an eyebrow, slightly impressed despite himself. "Manchester. Moved here about three years ago for school." 

"My father was a diplomat, I traveled all over the UK when I was young," Francis said by way of explanation. "Will you go back once you've graduated?" 

Arthur shrugged. "Haven't decided yet." 

By then, they'd reached the modest apartment building that Francis called home. He swiped his key card to let them in the front, then led the way to the elevators. "...I have a cat," he remembered to tell his guest, and Arthur perked up. "I hope you're not allergic." 

"No, I love cats," Arthur followed him into the elevator and Francis pushed the button for his floor. 

She came running as soon as she heard the key in the lock, miaoing loudly before he'd even gotten the door properly open. Francis chuckled and crouched to scoop her up, a fluffy ball of white with a chocolate-coloured face, paws and tail. "This is Arthur, Marie, and he is a guest so you must be nice." 

Arthur was almost visibly melting over the cat and he reached out to take her from Francis, heedless of the fur getting on his coat. "Hello there, love," Marie-Antionette purred shamelessly, rubbing her little round head under Arthur's chin. 

"She loves people," Francis said needlessly as he bent to untie his boots. "Especially people who will give her attention." 

"So I see." Arthur cuddled her for a minute, then looked up at Francis. "Are we going to grab the wine and go straight back, or...?" 

Francis sighed, standing in his stocking feet with his coat still on. "I suppose. I wish I didn't have to, this year it's rowdier than I like." 

To his surprise, Arthur made a face. "I'm glad Al's making new friends but..." 

"They're very loud," Francis agreed. "Poor Matthew." 

"Well," Arthur smirked. "If you don't come back with wine, he'll start drinking spiced rum and then they're _all_ in trouble." 

Francis laughed. He and Matthew almost always shared wine when they were together, but there had been a time or two when Francis had seen Matthew drunk on rum and it was indeed an amazing sight. "The parking lot is almost icy enough for hockey, maybe we should go back just to supervise." 

"Fuck no," Arthur snorted, though he was smiling too. "I value my limbs too much to risk them in drunk New Years hockey, thank you." He kissed the top of Marie-Antoinette's head, then bent down to put her on the ground so he could unlace his boots. She protested loudly, and Francis rolled his eyes, nudging her gently with his foot. 

"You are an attention whore," he told her. Arthur had started stripping off his coat and scarf, and Francis did the same. By the time he looked up again, Arthur had gone to investigate his kitchen and Francis, the chef in him bristling possessively, hurried after him. 

"Is wine all you have?" Arthur asked, one hand on the refrigerator door. Francis stared at him for a moment, wondering when he had decided he could make himself at home, then mentally shrugged. A tipsy Englishman was far from the worst company he'd ever kept, and it would still be better than going back to the party. 

"I think I might have a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, let me check." Arthur perked up at the suggestion, and Francis did manage to dig a mostly full bottle of Scotch whiskey out of the back of his liquor cabinet. He offered it, amused at the way Arthur snatched it. "Are you even going to bother with a glass?" 

Arthur's ears turned red. Now that he'd taken off his toque, his hair was sticking up like an industrious bird had been nesting in it, and Francis could more clearly see the three piercings in one ear and the ear cuff crawling up the edge of the other. He held out his hand wordlessly, embarrassed, and Francis gave him one of the weighted tumblers that was nearly impossible to knock over. (He was pretty sure Alfred had deliberately tried a time or two, in the name of 'science' or something like that.) 

Francis selected a bottle of wine for himself, and after a moment of thought found one of his stemless wine glasses. He wasn't exactly planning to get trashed, but he was beginning to realize that things just had a way of _happening_ around Arthur and it was probably better to be safe than sorry. By the time he'd finished pouring himself a glass, Arthur was halfway through his first tumbler-full and was leaning back against the counter, hips canted at an angle that made Francis' mouth go a little dry, even if he was fairly certain it wasn't deliberate. 

"So," Arthur said, cheeks already a bit pink again. Francis wondered if he was a light-weight, or if he'd been drinking something strong back at the party. "Are we going to have our own party, or...?" 

Francis realized, all at once, that he'd invited a man he barely knew into his apartment, and then basically invited him to stay, and he had no conceivable notion of what to do next. He hadn't even _thought_ about it being a booty call until this very second, but perhaps that's what Arthur had assumed it was all along. And if he had, he was still _here_ , denim-clad hips against Francis' pristine kitchen counters, Marie-Antoinette rubbing around his ankles, staring at Francis with eyes that were so very piercingly _green_. 

Francis swallowed thickly, and drained his wine glass. When he lowered it, Arthur seemed to have relaxed minutely, eyes dancing in mirth. "You _do_ know Matthew was trying to hook us up, right?" 

"I do now," Francis murmured, feeling the embarrassed flush creep across his cheeks. Arthur chuckled, pushing off the counter and padding over to Francis, something fluid in his movements that made Francis flush even hotter. They were about the same height, so it was easy for Arthur to lean in, cupping his palms surprisingly gently around Francis' jaw, and kiss him. 

Francis had never kissed someone with a facial piercing before. It took a little getting used to, but the noises Arthur made when Francis nipped and tugged at the lip ring (gently!) were so worth it. They had to lock Marie-Antoinette in the bathroom and listen to her plaintive meowing to stop her from trying to squirm in-between them for cuddles, but that was worth it too. 

* * *

"....Matt." 

"Mm?" Matthew raised his head and yawned, blearily looking up at Alfred, who was staring very intently at the ceiling. Matthew glanced up, but didn't see anything of interest. And anyway, Alfred didn't have his glasses on so he'd be lucky if he could tell what _colour_ the ceiling was. "Al, what?" 

"Has Francis ever gotten a blowjob from someone with a tongue stud before?" 

Matthew thunked his head back down on Alfred's shoulder and started laughing.


End file.
